Crimson Tears
by thegaygumballmachine
Summary: Rated T to be on the safe side. "Carefully, and lightning fast, with a precision only a seasoned chef could have, she brought the knife to her palm and cut. It was shallow, not deep enough to do any permanent damage, but damned if she didn't feel alive." Subtle to moderate Red/Gloria.
1. chapter 1

_A/N: Contains self-harm. I like to think I handled it tactfully, but I suggest you leave if this triggers you in some way._

 _This piece is angsty, obviously. Let me know if you want me to continue. I don't know as it stands._

Red was numb.

She sat in her bunk and stared at the wall, not thinking, not truly seeing. It was almost as if she were asleep.

It could have been viewed as a defense mechanism - a way to cope. But this wasn't coping. It was denial.

She wasn't thinking, because if she did she would think about Nicky, and about how she'd just watched her closest daughter get dragged away to what may as well have been hell.

Not of her own volition, she found she was walking. Red was seeing everything in a kind of haze. She felt like a ghost. She almost wished she was.

Without realizing it, she'd stopped at Nicky's bunk. She cursed herself for it, but kept going even as she did. Looking around, she finally allowed emotion to pierce her fog of indifference.

All Nicky's things were there, untouched. It still smelled like her, Red observed as she sat. It was there, in the shadow of the lively, beautiful woman that was her daughter, that reality hit Red.

Quiet sobs filled the air, hers, as she tried to find solid ground. Her world was a sea of confusion and she was drowning in it.

"She's gone," she whispered, over and over. "My baby is gone…"

Red was always the strong one, always the rock. She was expected to comfort others, never to need that for herself, but right now more than anything she wanted a shoulder to cry on. She needed not to feel so alone. If she kept this up, it might kill her.

And still, in this moment of feeling, she felt numb. Imprisoned in her own skin, experiencing someone else's heartbreak.

But her body was not responding to her commands. It was content to remain where it was, shaking with uncontrollable sadness.

"Oh, Nicky," she said softly, "why didn't you tell me?"

Did she not think that Red would listen? That she would always listen? Had she not made that clear?

Had she not shown her love?

Her sobs grew in intensity. Was it her fault that her daughter had returned to drugs?

The more she thought about it, the more she believed it was.

Normally, she would be heavily berating herself for this. She was in a semi-public place, showing such weakness…

But nothing about these circumstances were normal, and she could do nothing about it. She was so past caring at this point.

Red had to get out of here. The place was filled with reminders of how she had failed Nicky. She couldn't face that right now.

She forced herself to move, pulling herself up, wiping at her eyes from what felt like a stranger's tears and concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. One hand was at the small of her back and the other hung at her side. It was a familiar stance, one that usually made her look strong, but now she slumped and seemed to exude defeat.

Before she knew it, Red was in the kitchen. Glancing around, she saw no-one and breathed a sigh of relief.

What did she need? She wasn't sure she knew. This place felt like home, somehow. Somewhere safe. It lightened her breathing slightly, though she didn't know what it was about it.

Red had to work through this. Get back to herself. But it had only been a few hours and she didn't need to work until the morning. This was her time, and if she wanted to spend it in crushing sadness she could do so.

And a part of her did want it. Wanted to punish herself for not seeing it sooner. For not being able to help Nicky…

The rest of her just couldn't really prevent it, and she had resigned herself to that fact. She was no stranger to depression, and she knew the signs, but she couldn't bring herself to care anymore.

Red couldn't really see a reason to live at the moment - what with the only light in her darkness having been stolen from her. That was what prison did, right? It took anything good and ripped it to shreds.

She should never have gotten this attached to any one person. How could she have been so naive?

It was with a kind of detached self-loathing that she thought all of this, the feelings dulled but the reasoning seemingly unflawed to her own mind.

With Nicky gone, she had no reason to keep going. It was as simple as that.

Red couldn't feel anything. She was, even in the midst of intense emotion, only at her core experiencing a blank nothingness. An excruciating numbness that covered her and made it hard to breathe. She found that right now, she wanted nothing more than to really _feel_.

Everything felt superficial; fake. Pain seemed the only thing that would get through to her as true and real. Pain was something she trusted. Something safe.

As if watching someone else's movements, she pulled a small knife from the chopping block.

Red had enough common sense left not to kill herself this way - if she were to go she wanted it to be peaceful. Quick.

Carefully, and lightning fast, with a precision only a seasoned chef could have, she brought the knife to her palm and cut.

It was shallow, not deep enough to do any permanent damage, but damned if she didn't feel alive.

White-hot pain raced through her, electric and addictive. It was both a punishment and an indulgence. This, she knew for sure, was real. It was an experience, a feeling, she was well acquainted with, and it exhilarated her to understand that it was honest.

This was something encoded into her very being, as it was with every flesh-and-blood human. It was part of a most basic set of abilities, to feel pain.

She felt like a person again, if only for a moment.

Another slit, this time on her arm. Just above the wrist, avoiding any arteries.

She would do anything to bring back the part of her that left with Nicky, and though this was a poor substitute it was so, _so_ much better than nothing.

Blood, crimson and thick, trickled down her arm. She closed her hand into a fist to catch it, watching.

This was the color that defined her. The color that made her name. It somehow comforted her to be reminded that it flowed through her, to every inch of her body at all times. That she was _her_ , and nothing could change that.

Another, maybe an inch above.

All too soon, the rush of adrenaline faded from her system. She wondered, absently, if this is what Nicky felt when she came down from a high.

She couldn't bring herself to move for a time, holding the knife as if sacred and keeping her eyes fixed on the cuts. She felt dazed; everything was muffled.

"Red?"

She thought she'd imagined it. Nothing seemed real to her now. It wouldn't be much of a change.

"Oh my God, Red, what the fuck?"

Gloria.

"No, no, oh my God… is this really happening right now?"

She couldn't see Mendoza, merely hear her. Something inside of her shifted at the panic in the other woman's voice.

 _What the fuck am I doing?_

The knife fell to the floor, the clang of it reverberating off the walls. Her shoulders shook with repressed emotion.

"Red…"


	2. Chapter 2

Gloria had known that Red would be fucked up after Nichols left, but she had in no way guessed it would be like this.

She'd needed something from the kitchen, unimportant now, because what she'd found instead had almost made her pass out.

Red, the strongest woman she had ever known, taking a blade to her own skin. She watched, frozen in a combination of intense fear and nausea, as the Russian made a final slit.

This couldn't be real - it couldn't be happening. If Red went to shit, everyone else would too.

"Red?" She called, not necessarily an actual question but more a confirmation that what she was seeing truly was happening.

The worst possible thing she could have done, Red did. She didn't move an inch, didn't show in any way that she'd registered Gloria at all.

"Oh my God," she said as she moved closer, finding Red's hands shaking and her posture screaming of loss. "Red, what the fuck?"

This woman, this caring, loving, wonderful woman, had resorted to such means… to what end, Gloria couldn't possibly know, but it hurt her deeply and she didn't know exactly why.

"No, no," she whispered, as if denial would make it go away. "Oh my God, is this really happening right now?"

Still, Red didn't move for several moments.

When she did, Gloria's eyes followed as, almost in slow motion, the knife fell to the floor; she watched as Red's emotions overtook her. She looked ready to fall apart, seemingly unable to take the weight of her feelings.

Gloria had daughters too. She could only imagine what Red was going through, but her imaginings were horrific and she wanted nothing more than to aid the other woman.

Without much thought, she pulled Red into a hug from behind. It's what she would have wanted.

That was all it took. She felt Red shake with silent sobs. She fell backward into Gloria's arms and rested her head on her shoulder. She was completely leaning on Gloria for support.

Gloria realized that nobody ever did anything like this for Red. She was always there for everyone else in here, but she needed a little comfort too and people forgot that much too easily.

"It's alright," she murmured, "I've got you." Red turned and buried her face in Gloria's shirt, leaving a wet patch. Her arms automatically went around Red again, providing a security that she sorely needed.

For long moments, they stood in silence. Gloria was at a kind of loss - what did you do in this situation? What did you _say_?

"We gotta get you cleaned up," she managed. "Those might get infected if you don't."

Red nodded, but didn't move. Gloria helped her to the sink, pulling a rag from the rack and wetting it. She patted at the cuts and grimaced at Red's hiss of pain.

How could this possibly feel worse than what she had already done to herself?

oOoOo

This was worse than the act itself - so much worse.

It was a different kind of pain, cleaning the cuts. It felt as if it was almost diminishing the power of what she had done; taking away some of the healing of it.

This gave her no relief. No sense of peace. It just… hurt.

But, as she tried to remind herself, she had lived through a hell of a lot worse. She gritted her teeth and let Gloria work, bracing herself for the lecture that was sure to come.

Red knew her own reasons, understood her own thought process, but she would never be able to explain it to another in any kind of satisfactory way. Being told what she did wrong would change nothing.

If Gloria had to do it, she would sit there and take it. It was what she would have wanted, had their positions been reversed.

But they weren't. Red was the one struggling, and Gloria was helping her. And Gloria did things differently than Red did.

"You know what I thought when I came in here?"

A rhetorical question, but it had Red's attention. As it was meant to.

"I thought I couldn't deal with watching you do this to yourself. I thought if you went down, the rest of us would go down with you, because you're just that _fucking important_."

She sighed, tossing down the rag and facing away from Red as she gripped the counter with white knuckles.

"Why did you do it, Red? I gotta know."

"I…"

How could she put it into words? That feeling of freedom from her own body?

"I guess I just needed to _feel_ something."

"There are other ways," Gloria said, her tone somehow resigned and impassioned at once. "This is not how you deal with your problems! We need you here!"

"She needed me," Red shot back, tone bitter. "And I failed her. What makes you think I won't do the same to you?"

At this, Gloria turned on the spot, hands finding Red's shoulders.

"You. Can't. Save. Everyone. The sooner you get that through your head the better off all of us will be. What Nichols did was not your fault."

How _dare_ she speak as if she knew?

"You know _nothing_ of her," Red said, her voice filled with venom and her eyes fire.

"I have daughters too," Gloria said, never leaving Red's personal space. "Daya is to me what Nicky is to you. _I get it_."

She understood.

She knew.

It was as if all the fight left Red at once. Her shoulders sagged as she processed.

 _She knew._

There was only one woman in this prison that truly accepted the magnitude of Red's responsibilities, because she shared them.

She had children in here too.

Red felt her eyes filling again, but did nothing about it. Gloria, she felt now, was someone with whom she could show her emotions.

And suddenly, she was in a tight embrace. Hesitantly, she returned it, admitting to herself that this was what she needed.

"If you ever get like this again, you'd better come to me."

Despite herself, Red gave a small smile as Gloria pulled away from her.

"I swear," she said.

"Good. Good." Gloria turned back to the sink and started to wash the cloth, desperate for something to do with her hands.

"You said there were other ways."

"Well," she began casually, thinking Red would be able to accept humor now, "you could go get laid. Usually works for me."

Surprisingly, the other woman scoffed.

"And who exactly do you think would be interested in the old, mean Russian lady with back problems and a smart mouth? I've never been anyone's 'dream girl.'" She rolled her eyes and sighed. "And what do you mean by 'it works for you?' Who could you possibly be with?"

Gloria was taken aback by this response; she had no idea Red thought so little of herself.

It did explain, however, why she poured so much of her time into helping others, and why she was falling apart as that slipped from her fingers. Gloria felt a deep sadness that Red saw herself that way.

"No-one," she said quietly, choosing to address the easier part of the statement as her movements slowed and eventually stopped. "I have no-one."

"Few of us do," Red replied, her tone soft and her eyes moist. "Have someone, I mean."

Something in the way she said it compelled Gloria to face her, to watch her face and see what she found, and as she did something seemed to shift.

Instead of merely confiding in a friend, Red almost looked like she was considering Gloria. She didn't know how better to describe it. Red's eyes never left her, as if searching for something in her expression and posture. It was disconcerting.

"What," she asked, almost defensively.

Instead of answering with speech, Red closed the space between them. She surprised Gloria once again, and infinitely more so, by giving her a tentative, soft kiss.

oOoOo

It was so quick Gloria thought she might have imagined it, but when it was over Red was still there and so was she. She touched her fingers to her lips and watched Red, confused, waiting for her to explain in her own time.

But none was forthcoming.

Red didn't fully know why she'd done it to begin with. She'd just felt so alone, and had heard in Gloria's words that she was too.

Her emotions were in turmoil, tossed up so that she had no idea what she was feeling anymore, but kissing Gloria had felt right and she clung to that.

She wasn't completely in control of herself now - her body was moving faster than her mind could catch up. But she was mostly running on instinct anyway; she needed to feel something besides this all-consuming depression and nothing else really mattered.

Subconsciously, she guessed, she had always felt something of an attraction to Gloria. That was just coming into the light now.

Gloria obviously wanted an explanation, but Red couldn't even justify it to herself, so she kept silent.

Mostly, she was hoping that they both really did want this and that it wasn't just one-sided. That kind of rejection now, on top of everything else…

God, this was a bad idea.

oOoOo

Gloria watched helplessly as uncertainty flickered across Red's face. She wanted to reassure her, make her understand, but she was clearly mentally unstable. If she gave in to this now, they would both regret it deeply.

She couldn't do that to Red. No matter how much she wanted to.

"I-I can't," she whispered. _I love you too much to break your heart like this._

"I'm sorry." _I wish it were different._

A small piece of her seemed to die as she watched Red's face fall. She felt selfish and awful, even as she reminded herself that this was for the other woman's own protection.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't. Just... don't."


End file.
